So much more to lose
by Ky03elk
Summary: Castle thought he knew how much he had to lose after Alexis was abducted, but the nightmare is just beginning. Back in New York, their lives have turned upside down in an instant and instead of being by Kate's side, her partner is in Paris. Becomes AU during Hunt. This is rated M because of a graphic description (not sexual content).
1. Chapter 1

So much more to lose

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_This__ story takes __place __during __Hunt__, __hours__ after __the __scene where Beckett kicked down the door to get into the ransacked apartment (after Castle takes off for Paris), __but before the photos of Alexis were recovered from the hard drive._

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_It becomes AU from there._

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_This__ is __rated __M __because of__ a __graphic __description__._

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_Warning- involves a sensitive and possibly triggering subject (miscarriage)._

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* * *

She's so tired that it pulls at her, weighs her down, and suddenly standing in front of the whiteboard has become too much. Kate prides herself on her work ethic, being the last one standing, that she fights with all she has for the victims, for their families. Unfortunately, this time she's fighting for her own family.

Alexis' picture stares at her from its position on the board, mocking Kate's inability to move forward. And while technically her murder case is Hasim Farouk, no-one is standing in her way as she simultaneously works the girl's kidnapping–their waking nightmare.

Hell, even Gates had stressed that this was their top priority._ "Do whatever you need to do to get him back his little girl,"_ in an 'all hands on deck' kind of way. Only it's not all hands on deck. Her partner's gone AWOL; he's lied to her, to his mother, and disappeared into thin air. Over twenty-four hours have gone by since Castle went rogue–off searching Paris for his only child.

She understands, or at least as much as she can, given the fact that it's _his _daughter, not _theirs_, who was abducted. She knows firsthand the lengths that he would go to; the moral lines he's prepared to cross, _for the people he loves._ Yet a selfish part of her can't help but wish that he was here by her side, or even better, that he had thought to include her on his escapade to France.

Instead, she stands, staring ineptly at a panel that contains very few clues, with no new information to investigate. She can feel her fellow detectives moving around her in the bullpen, yet her experience is somehow detached. An invisible barrier surrounds her, keeps her apart from them, as she's locked in her own private hell.

Her eyelids shut momentarily against her will, and she fights to re-open them, to take up her vigil again. She needs to push past the exhaustion. Castle is depending on her, hell, _Alexis_ is depending on her, but with every passing second, Kate appears to be losing her own battle, and her eyes close once more.

"Beckett, you need to go home." Esposito's voice slowly makes its way through the fog that surrounds her. He sounds so distant and she wonders if she's starting to lose her sanity. If, after years of being able to compartmentalize and remain strong in front of others, this is the moment where she shatters completely.

"Gates has called a meeting in five." Her words are hollow and her eyes remain shut. A weight seems to have settled in her lower abdomen and her thoughts stray toward the calendar and monthly cycles. But before she's had a chance to start calculating dates, Esposito interrupts her deliberations.

"Do we have anything new?"

His question, while asked innocently enough, rips through her already fragile state and she can sense the bile rising at the back of her throat. She makes a break for it, weaves through the officers as she attempts to reach the restroom in time. Catapults her body into the nearest cubicle, one hand moving behind her head, sweeping the long chestnut strands into a tight fist, while the other braces against the porcelain bowl.

Heave after heave ruptures her thin frame, breaking apart her composure. Her stomach muscles contract repeatedly in an attempt to rid her body of what little it has digested. At the back of her mind she realizes why hardly anything is being expelled; coffee and a just a few bites of cold Chinese is all she'd consumed today. Even before that, there has been little nutritional value to her diet; she has been so absorbed in making progress, in getting the job done, that she hadn't worried about what she was or wasn't eating.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she breathes slowly through her nose, trying to control every movement as she attempts to halt the vomiting. The wave slides persistently up her esophagus and it leaves her clamping her mouth shut, teeth grinding, as if mind over matter will be enough to stop the process. It's not, and the violent expulsion occurs again, and her head tips forward, acid burning the lining of her throat.

Time seems to pass slowly, but eventually the internal upsurge retreats enough so that she's able to stand. Kate pauses, squeezing her eyes closed as the walls tilt and appear to collide with the floor; white light flashes like lightning strikes, affecting her vision. Letting go of her hair, both hands are forced to grab the toilet wall, her body no longer maintaining its equilibrium, and it takes all she has to not let the sensation overwhelm her. She has to hold on to avoid slumping against the tiled surface under foot.

Forcing her eyes open, Kate pushes herself back, compels her body to stand up straight, places one tentative foot in front of the other, as she slowly makes her way over to the sink. Turning on the faucet, she vaguely takes note of the tremor which shakes her fingers; a constant spasm that affects her ability to make a cup out of her hands. Struggling again, she presses her palms together, before creating a small gap, allows the cold water to enter and fill the space as she lowers her head to drink.

The liquid soothes the fire left from her earlier retching, but as she stands tall again, the loss of balance reoccurs, its intensity increasing, and Kate's forced again to grasp the nearest object to avoid a collision with the ground.

Breathe… Breathe.

She's experienced enough panic attacks to recognize that she's on the verge of a nasty downhill spiral, that she needs to get ahold of her thoughts and emotions, before her body drags her mind down with it.

She needs to breathe.

A loud blow against the bathroom's outer door leaves her knuckles white, as she squeezes the basin with a fierce determination. She _will not_ wind up in a heap on the floor. Swallowing drily, Kate inhales through her nose before attempting to clear her throat. Her first go is ineffective, so she tries again, creates enough of a channel so she can growl, "What!"

The pause that follows provides enough time for her to wrench herself back together. She drives her unwanted feelings into the internal partitioned boxes that they normally live in; her trembling fingers run through her hair, shoves it away from her face as she calls out again, more gently this time.

"What?"

Ryan's voice is low, timid as he finally responds to her question. "Gates is wanting an update."

_Shit_.

It all crashes over her again; Alexis. Castle. The kidnapping. Paris. Her body's desire to shutdown became all that she was focused on, and for five hellish minutes, she had forgotten why she was here in the first place.

_Shit._

Moving slowly toward the bathroom's exit, Kate shoves her hands into her pockets in the hope that she can conceal their tremble from her team members and the Captain. The last thing she needs at the moment is to be sent home, banished from the precinct, to become even more inadequate than she currently is.

Walking through the door, she avoids Ryan's questioning gaze. His concern for her wellbeing covers his features, and she wishes that he would stop looking at her like that. As if she's about to break; as if she's already broken. Strolling with a purpose she doesn't feel, Kate stands to one side of the whiteboard as the ten or so members of their squad turn to face her. Sorrow encompasses the group, sadness over what has occurred, a sense of pity for the detective who has been left behind to scramble for clues which are heart wrenchingly absent.

As Gates' begins, rehashing all that has happened in the last few days–_God, has it really only been that long_–Kate's mind begins to drift, slipping back to the last time the three of them had been together, their uncomfortable little pseudo family.

* * *

Sitting curled, held lovingly in his lap, Kate trails a single fingertip along the edge of his ear, curves it enough so that the hard flat nail digs into his skin, and a shudder breaks across his body. Castle's sudden movement causes his office chair to squeak loudly and her giggle escapes over the noise.

A distant thump can be heard outside their happy bubble, located somewhere from the living room, and Alexis's voice breaks through their moment.

"Dad, have you seen the old photo albums?"

Tensing at the intrusion, Kate pushes her hands against his broad shoulders, and she manages to lift herself modestly off his lap, before his broad hands span her waist, pulling her back down, as he yells his reply.

"We're in the office."

Castle continues to make the task of removing herself before Alexis enters even more difficult, as he lowers his voice to whisper in her ear, "Stay. We're not doing anything indecent."

She knows in part that he's right; they are both fully clothed and cuddling in front of the desk–while he took a short break from writing–is hardly the stuff of X-rated fantasies. Yet, she can only imagine, _doesn't want to imagine, _what it would be like to come across her own father in this position, so she's hardly going to–especially given her tentative relationship with his daughter–put Alexis in that situation.

Leaning in, Kate brushes a light kiss across his lips and skillfully slips out of his embrace, standing as the young redhead enters through the doorway.

"Oh. Hi, Detective Beckett." Alexis seems to come up short as she realizes that her father's not alone, and Kate manages to resist an eye roll at the use of her formal title.

"Kate is fine, Alexis." She thinks she does quite well at keeping the exasperated tone to a minimum, this after all, is not the first time they've had this conversation. She has to hope at some point, it will one day be the last.

"Sorry, Kate." Alexis tone remains neutral, as if reading from a takeout menu, not giving anything away, as Kate discreetly kicks Castle's shins under the desk. A bit of intervention at this point would be appreciated!

"Did you say something about photos?" At long last, his voice interrupts the awkward tension that circulates around the room, and both woman can almost be heard releasing a pent up breath.

"Yeah, Dad. I need some of my baby pictures for a class thing."

Nodding, Castle raises himself out of the chair and moves toward the bookcases beneath the windows. Squatting down, he begins pulling out several large, faded albums, carefully placing them on the floor, as both girls walk to stand behind him.

As he glides a hand over the top folder, he pauses as if in contemplation, before flicking open its cover. Almost instantaneously, he slams it shut, obscuring the photos within.

Pushing that one behind him, his abrupt actions catch Kate's interest, and she slides down beside him while reaching back, and as her hands grasp the concealed album, he stops her, shaking his head.

"Ah, no. You don't need to see that." His hands push hers away from the secrets inside almost forcefully, causing her curiosity to rise. Speculation over what could possibly be hidden runs rampant, and she gives his side a sharp poke.

"They're pictures, Castle. I don't think the earth will stop turning if you let me have a look." Kate's statement is spoken with an air of confidence, yet underneath a thread of uncertainty coils around her soul.

_What is he trying to hide?_

He appears to ignore her, as he continues to sort through the other albums, coming across the ones Alexis needs, he hands them to his daughter, before turning back to face Kate.

His eyes search hers, and she remains steady on the outside, meets his stare, and holds it, in spite of the trembling inside her heart. The moment stretches on, before Castle seems to come to some sort of conclusion, nods slightly as he pushes over the debated album, until it bumps into her thigh.

Turning over the cover, she examines the first set of pictures; she takes in a baby lying on a mat, the faded nature of the old-fashioned photo, the dated décor of the room and it hits her. This baby is Rick.

Her eyes snap to take in his face, but his are fixated on Alexis, who appears oblivious to what has transpired between the two adults in the room. The redhead lazily skims through her own images, searching for what she needs for her assignment, and Castle continues to avoid her scrutiny.

Leaning over the sacred memories, she gently places a hand against his bicep, squeezes the hard muscle underneath her hand, and waits for him to look to at her.

Time appears to extend between them, yet finally he elevates his eyes, makes contact with hers. Embarrassment seems to cloud his normally cheerful features, and she does her best to express her love, her appreciation about being let in to a side of him that she rarely sees, with a mere _look_. Lifts her hand to stroke the worry lines that have formed on his face, aims to erase them with the touch of her fingers.

"You were a beautiful baby." She so desperately wants to lean forward, reinforce her words with actions, but knows now is not the time, not when they have company.

"Ohh, are those Dad's baby pictures?" Alexis manages to catch her declaration, and shifts so that she is now facing the pair of them, the album centered within their triangle.

Letting go of Castle, Kate moves the photos so that they are facing her and his daughter, leaving him with an upside down view. Slides her empty fingers back over to his, so that they can interlock, her skin pulling tight as she weaves them between his large ones, and she enjoys the solid feeling that is _him_.

"Oh, look at your little bubble butt, Dad." Alexis' mirth over her father's naked image is contagious and they all share a chuckle, as they look at the poor boy, not even a year old, with his bare bottom displayed for the world to see as he clings onto the edge of a ratty sofa. Rick's impish smile is situated across his adorable features, even back then.

Kate lets go of his hand discreetly and drops it down into the space between them. She moves her fingers, giving his ample rear a gentle pinch. His eyes widen in surprise and latch onto hers, amusement radiates through his body as he closes the distance to bump his lips briefly against her forehead, reading the silent statement on her features. She appreciates his curved ass as well, although for much more mature reasons.

Alexis giggles loudly as she continues inspecting her father's early days, remarking with glee, "Thank goodness genetics were kind and you didn't pass that feature on to me!"

As Kate hears the words, her thoughts begin to drift dangerously; her mind morphing her appearance with Castle's until a new persona is created. A little child with her determined eyes, and his mischievous smile, and her heart skips a beat as she pushes the idea back into the box with all her other daydreams. Engagements. Weddings. Always.

She's thankfully saved from the images, as her phone begins to ring, signifying a body drop.

* * *

"Detective Beckett!" Gates' words are loud and sharp, indicating that this is probably not the first time she has called Kate's name. The Captain's voice pulls her away from happier times, _back to now._

"Ahhhh?" Kate's uncertainty over what she's being asked bleeds through her incoherent question, leaving everyone in the room mystified by her hesitation.

Her eyes dart around the bullpen, as she tries to focus on something, _anything, _but as she continues to jerk from one face to the next, she begins to realize that not all is right. A line of sweat breaks out along her hairline, and she sluggishly hauls one hand up to wipe the moisture away. A cold clammy vice threads its way around her body, resulting in a tightness across her chest and a heaviness within her limbs, and Kate is forced to lower her hand which has become too weighted to hold aloft.

As a sharp, knife like pain replaces the dull ache that has been residing in her abdomen, Kate pushes all ten fingers into her body, kneads her stomach as the severe pain surges in time with her increasing heartbeat. Stumbling forward as her frame attempts to fold in on itself, Kate notices for the first time, a stain spreading along the inside of her grey pants. Hears her name being shouted, but the thumping in her ears makes the sound seem so very far away, and she comes to the conclusion that something has gone very wrong, just moments before she hits the floor. Her blood pools in front of the murder board, and as her body gives in, her mind blacks out.

* * *

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A.N. This is turning out to be about 8/9 chapters long and will slowly work towards a happy ending.

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Thank you for Kimmiesjoy for sharing your thoughts

and

Thank you to honeyandvodka and your ability to take my disjointed ramblings and make the into the story before you xoxo

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Your comments are valued!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

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October is Infant/Pregnancy Loss and SIDS Awareness month! Let's take some time to remember the babies who were born asleep, or whom we carried but never met, or those we have held but could not take home, or the ones who made it home, but didn't stay.

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* * *

Kate's first thought is that she's floating, like she's somehow found herself on top of an actual cloud, drifting high in the sky. Her limbs feel weightless, and the pure white of it all surrounds her, pierces through her closed eyelids. Turning in an attempt to escape the harsh light, she registers for the first time, that wherever she is, she's not alone.

A female voice is arguing with that of a man's, and as she struggles to latch onto what they are saying, she comes to the realization that she knows these voices, even if she can't place whom they are. Ignoring her fight with the brightness, she instead directs all her attention on what they are saying. She can only hope that their words will fill in the blanks, will give her answers to questions she's still to confused to ask herself.

"I _cannot _lie to my son." The woman's words are said with such strength, such passion, that Kate almost turns her head away, as if the words are directed at her, are reprimanding her.

"I understand that, Martha, but having him torn between his abducted daughter and Katie… there's nothing he can do here, besides hold her hand, and I know my daughter. She would never want him to fly back, considering why he's over there." It's the _Katie_, which leaves her without breath, forces her to concentrate on getting oxygen back into her lungs, in through her nose, out through her mouth. Whatever has happened it's big–_her father's here._

Yet, as much as the facts hit her; her Dad and Martha seem to be arguing over Castle, about him being… away?… with Alexis? There's no context to the situation and the effort to put all the pieces together has left her on the edge of exhaustion. An unknown force beckons from within and she wants nothing more than to follow it, to slip back into oblivion.

"I know that he'll be torn, but Kate is here, in hospital, and I can't paint a different picture if he asks about her. I have stood back in the past and watched as those two attempted to destroy their love with deceptions and untruths. I will not be a part of that again! This alone may be enough to cause them to retreat to their separate corners, and I'll be damned if I allow or participate in the destruction of their relationship, now that they're finally together."

Kate can hear the sincerity ring clear through the older woman's words, but the Matriarch's speech is nothing but a hazy blur, the word _hospital_ is replaying, stuck on a tortuous loop inside her mind. She needs to get up, she needs some perspective, but as she attempts to move her hands, she grasps that it's not possible. Both hands appear to be anchored down, tape and tubing enclose both, and the feeling of being tethered results in an escalation of her blood pressure. The rushing sound inside her ears, the panic that is taking hold, makes the continued quarrel so much harder to hear, but it's thrown into sharp relief as the next sentence leaves Martha's mouth.

"Katherine has lost their baby and Richard will want to be here for her!"

_Baby_… the word is almost foreign to Kate's vocabulary and it triggers a snap inside her, an outpouring of memories and emotions; Alexis' kidnapping, being unwell at the Precinct, standing next to the whiteboard, collapsing in front of her colleagues, the blood–so much _blood_.

It's as if her realization brings the rest of Martha and Jim's conversation into context and she comprehends the meaning behind it all; whether Castle should be told, forced to abandon his search to fly home, so he can… what? Stand by her side? Console the woman who was unable to keep his baby? She can't even be enough of a mother to protect a child that hasn't even been born yet!

"Nooooo…"

She intended for the words to be a strong, steady statement; a declaration that they will not be telling Castle _any _of what has happened, but her voice shatters on the first sound and the rest is lost, nothing more than a jagged rasp of air.

Kate's inability to express herself compels her to force her eyelids apart; she flinches as they fight against the intensity of the overhead glare. Too many lights combine with too much white and for the first time she feels pain, a nasty cracking within her skull.

As if recognizing her battle, her father's hand brushes calmly across her forehead and provides enough of a shadow so that she's able to open her eyes and take in his expression as he peers down at her. The worry that's etched onto his features, the passing of time that has left him aged and she notes it as if for the first time. Her father is getting on in years.

"Katie? Kate, focus. I'm right here."

All she can manage is a slight nod of her head, but it's enough to clear some of the anxiety from his face, a slight tug of his lips as he attempts to smile reassuringly at her. Her tongue swirls inside her mouth, thick and weighted with its recent inactivity. She's thankful that her dismayed expression prompts Martha to move forward, a cup of slowly melting ice chips's held high as if they are a trophy. Trying to dislodge the fuzziness within her throat, Kate internally notes that the redhead is not too far off the mark, the soothing cold water may as well be treasure considering her state.

Suddenly the bed begins moving, her head slowly lifts as the top is elevated and the movement results in a new feeling, a pressure between her legs, a dull ache that reminds her again, why she is here, that she's _lost _their baby.

_Lost_–what an inadequate word; it's not a fucking set of keys that has been misplaced in the laundry.

As Martha takes a spoon full of the frozen fragments, Kate's thoughts detach; she sees symbolism where she shouldn't, and she pushes it aside, as her mouth opens, and she allows the liquid to sooth her dryness. Clearing her throat successfully, Kate again attempts to speak, hopes this time it will come out as she intends.

"No. No telling, Castle."

Her words have the same effect as if she had slapped both parents and they recoil backwards, creating a space between themselves and her. The gap gives Kate a moment, a chance to inhale with purpose as she begins to feel her normal resolve come forth.

"I am not having him torn between what he needs to do and what he thinks he wants to do. I will not be responsible for him leaving his search for Alexis over some misplaced need to …" Do what? Hold her hand? Look at her with blame? Her eyes slam shut at the thought, what she needs is some distance, some time to push all that has happened down into a tight little box, where it can remain–forgotten.

"Has there been any news about Alexis?" She has no notion of how much time has disappeared while she was unconscious, what has been found–what hasn't.

Both parents look at each other, their joint anxiety over their children seems to have further strengthened their previous bond, and Kate is left in the dark as to the content of their silent communication.

As they refocus on her, Jim gives a slight shake of his head to indicate _no, _just as a phone begins to ring. The sound echoes around the hospital room, and they stare at each other in confusion, before Martha realizes that it's hers, discarded previously on the side table.

Reaching over, she palms the device, brings it hesitantly to her ear as she answers, silencing the shrill noise that has left them all on edge.

"Hello?" Her expression, normally so full, remains closed, reserved as she listens intently, a male voice–_Rick's?–_is distant on the other end, even with the quietness of the hospital room.

Unexpectedly, her face breaks into a wide grin, shoulders slump with relief as her whole body tips forward, caves into the side of the bed, as she listens intently.

"Oh, thank goodness! And she's okay? You're both okay?" The announcement provides an explanation for her body language, and results in the remaining pair bursting into wide smiles.

Alexis is okay. Castle is okay–at least for the moment.

"Ahh? Kate, she…" Martha's stare bores straight through her, as she frantically shakes her head silently, pleading for the situation to remain unspoken.

"I'm sure everything will be fine." Martha's words carefully toe the line of lying as she indicates with her free hand to Kate, body language asking if the detective wants the phone.

Vehemently shaking her head again, her internal panic escalates at the thought of having to speak to Castle, and it must be less hidden than she hopes, as Martha nods in understanding and wraps up the conversation with her son.

"Give my love to Alexis, darling, and we'll see you home soon."

As the older woman, shifts her position on the bed, her hand dropping the phone as if it has become too much too hold, she begins replaying her conversation.

"Richard found her. They're at the US embassy and will soon be on their way home." Martha stops, seems to be in conflict with herself, before she leans forward, cups Kate's pale and withdrawn face between her hands. Her warmth is a contrast to the younger woman's cold skin, and Kate can't help but list forward, settling firmly within her loving fingers.

Damn, she misses her Mom.

There's a tangible relief in the air, all three of them so thankful that Alexis' has been found, whole and alive–that they will be home soon, but the immediate situation holds their attention, is what they are most troubled by.

"Now, you listen to me very carefully, Katherine Beckett. I love my son, and I will not see him excluded from all that has happened… Yet, I have come to love you too." Her voice cracks on her last declaration, hands squeezing securely, as if to reinforce her words to Kate. "What has happened is devastating, and you will need time to heal, we all will, but he needs to know, he has a right to know what has occurred here." Martha ends her speech by placing a soft kiss against her forehead, and a single tear escapes, trailing gradually down her cheek.

Closing her eyes, Kate basks in the moment of comfort, if only for a minute, before she pulls herself together. Martha is right, she knows this, but there is so much within her that just wants to forget, pretend it didn't happen, lose herself in her work. Yet, has she learned nothing after a year's worth of therapy?

_You can't hide from your __problems__, Kate!_

"When he gets home, when they are both home safe, I'll …," Tell him? Destroy him? Advise him of what a failure she is? "I'll let him know. There's just no reason for him to spend an entire plane trip worrying over nothing."

Her words seem to be less than pleasing to the older pair as they share a glance, but everything is beginning to collapse around her. Moving within the bed she gets as comfortable as she can given the circumstances, closes her eyes as if her sheer will and determination can block out the rest of the world. Their looks, their pity, and the fact that she has to face her partner sooner rather than later.

* * *

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Thank you to every person that reviewed, made it a favourite, and added this story to your alerts. It's really appreciated!

.

Thank you to Kimmiesjoy for sharing your thoughts

and

Thank you to honeyandvodka and your ability to take my disjointed ramblings and make the into the story before you xoxo

.

Your comments are valued!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

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October is Infant/Pregnancy Loss and SIDS Awareness month! Let's take some time to remember the babies who were born asleep, or whom we carried but never met, or those we have held but could not take home, or the ones who made it home, but didn't stay.

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* * *

Kate wiggles uncomfortably within the hospital bed. Her tolerance for this situation ended long ago, sometime last night as the doctors stood over her. They had argued amongst themselves over her best course of treatment, and she had been forced to lie there, as if she was nothing more than a child, awaiting her fate. She had tried to debate the need for an overnight stay; pointed out that she was a grown woman who could handle herself just fine outside of these four walls. However, they had started discussing concerns over her platelet levels and the risk of another bleed out, and her dad had stepped in, silencing her disagreement with a fierce look. She may be one hell of a determined person, but a major proportion of that had been passed onto her by her father and she knew better than to continue fighting with him.

Still, she is well and truly over this and the hard part hasn't even begun. Rick and Alexis' flight was due to land over an hour ago, and as each moment passes, the anxiety within her body escalates just a little bit more. Worry over what he's going to say, his reaction to the situation. Besides a small query in passing–_you want more kids?–_they have never actually discussed the concept of children, pregnancy. Not that it matters now.

_Damn, that thought hurt!_

How do you miss something that you didn't even know you had? Ache for a concept, an idea? Mourn a loss that may never have been wanted? Does Castle want another child? In fact, does she want one?

Her contemplations are too painful, especially given the fact that the drug haze she'd initially been experiencing after her D and C–while under a general anaesthesia–had disappeared long ago. The nausea receded sometime last night, and she's now on nothing more than Advil for the cramping as she waits for that and the spotting to vanish with time. As if time's going to help her here.

Closing her eyes, she slumps heavily into her pillows; maybe if she can drift off to sleep again the world will carry on without her. She craves oblivion. Sighing heavily as she begins counting sheep–has that ever actually put her to sleep?–she hears the click of the door, the metal moving inside its handle.

She knows, _knows _without looking, who is standing against the doorframe, and she hopes that her appearance of slumber will have him backing out of the room as quietly as he entered.

Hell, it's hardly been her day, _her week_, and her wishes go unheard, as Castle makes his way hesitantly into the room, pulls the visitors chair closer as he makes himself at home.

_Home_–this is hardly home.

Kate puts everything she has into maintaining her breathing, tries to keep it steady and even, continues to give him the façade of sleep. But they have spent far too many nights together for her to be able to pull it off successfully. She feels his head move closer, lips brushing against the side of her mouth as he whispers against her cheek.

"I know you're awake." His words are said calmly as if they were laying wrapped in each other's arms, as if she was doing nothing more than avoiding the task of getting out of bed. As if they were anywhere but here–in this predicament.

He moves closer again, changes position from the chair to the side of her bed, and it provides him with the opportunity to begin lightly peppering her face with quiet kisses, and it all becomes too much.

A sob escapes from between her lips and he catches it with his own, but it's still too much, and she pulls back, turning away from his face, as she opens her eyes for the first time in his presence. Stares at the blank wall to her right. Avoids his gaze; avoids him.

"Kate." He says her name as if she's worthy of his love, his forgiveness, and it destroys her, fractures what's left of her resolve, and she shifts, creates more of a distance.

"Someone told you what happened?" Kate does her best to make the words come out clean, detached, as if she was asking about anything other than the fact that she had miscarried their baby.

Her face remains turned, but it doesn't appear to discourage him, as he cards his fingers through her hair, brushes the strands away from her face; as if exposing every gut-wrenching detail.

"Yeah. Mother met us at the airport. She said that the boys had called her and your Dad, that you had collapsed at work, that…," His words finally, _thankfully, _stop. It was painful enough to live through the first time, she doesn't need to hear the play by play.

"And Alexis? She's okay?" Kate knows that the subject of his daughter should distract him, move him away from where the previous conversation had been headed, and she almost applauds when her tactic works.

"She's fine; it turns out that they were after her all along. They had found out who we are related too. Tried to use her as leverage, but he found me, helped me get her back, got us safely to the US embassy." Castle pauses, seems lost in his own memories. "It was my father, Kate, it was all about my dad!" His declaration is said in pure amazement, and it finally breaks through her haze as she twists her head sharply.

"Your Dad?" She holds onto the one thing that stands out–_so incorrect–_in his explanation. Her eyes make contact with his for a moment, takes in the red that bleeds through the normally clear, white pupils, the black smudges that rest underneath each eye, and it all overwhelms her.

Her eyes close in an attempt, again, to block it–_him_–out, but he takes the opportunity to cradle her face in his large, comforting hands. The hold mimics Martha's from yesterday and it produces the same result. A single tear breaks forth from her tightly squeezed eyelids and rolls along her skin, until his thumb, slightly turned up, brushes it away. "Yeah, it's a long story, one that I'll retell over and over again to you. But, not now. Not now, Kate." His forehead lightly rests against her own, as if he's attempting to read her mind through their touch alone.

Pulling back a fraction, he whispers brokenly, "I'm sorry."

His apology has her reeling and her hands, now free of tubing, lift to push his frame back. Eyes widen to search his features as she remains confused.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Castle. It was me. I didn't even know. I didn't… I was even aware of what my own body was doing. What it was trying to tell me. This is my fault. This is my-"

His hands grasp her shoulders, squeeze just a little too hard as he gives her a slight shake. Tears well in his eyes and she watches, hypnotized as one breaks free and falls onto his skin.

"This is not your fault, Kate. If you hadn't have been so stressed, if I hadn't left you…," Castle's voice shatters on his pronunciation of_ you,_ as if his words for the first time are his enemy, not his friend.

She won't let him do this though, take the blame, the responsibility, when it should sit squarely on her shoulders. She's the one that had their child inside her without even realising it, that drank coffee, cup after cup, when she should have been taking multivitamins and proper meals. She's not enough, has never been enough, and he deserves so much more. He needs to leave, get out while he can, away from the tragedy that is her life, that is her.

"You have to go, Castle." Her hands clasp within her lap, her nails dig into her skin, as she focuses on the pain. Focuses on anything but him. "Alexis needs you. She's been through hell and back, and she needs you at home. I'll be fine." She believes her words–she does. Yet, the tightness in her chest and the invisible grip that's tightening around her throat mock her for the lie that she's telling. Alexis may need him, but there's a small part of her that wants nothing more than to crawl into his lap, be encased within his arms and to never come out again.

Silence overwhelms the room as they both remain frozen. Lost in their own thoughts. Separated by their own grief and guilt.

Standing abruptly, Castle begins nodding, appears to have come to a decision, and his hands clench; he forms a fist and releases it, over and over with pent up emotion. "Okay."

Her head snaps back as if she'd been struck, can't believe he is actually giving her what she had asked for, that he's agreeing to go.

"You have twenty four hours." He leans forward with those confusing words, places solid palms against the sheets of her hospital bed, as he situates his face mere inches from her own. Holds her stare as he clarifies.

"I know you, Kate. Know that when you are hurt and backed into corner, you lash out, you try and give as good as you have gotten. You want space and you want time to internalise and compartmentalize." He spits the word out, portrays his distaste, his frustration over her coping mechanisms.

"And I get that you need all that, but I need you. I need to grieve with you." Again, the word trips him up, and she watches, heart breaking as he inhales a shuttered breath. "So rather than go through the motions that we usually do, I'm going to lay it all out. You rage, I rage, and you push me to the nearest exit. Being so completely shit scared, I sit and wait for you to come back, days, weeks, _months _later." His hands rise to tear through his hair in frustration. "But we're going to change the dance."

His recent ordeal; the anguish over what he has lived through this past week, what it has done to him, seems to have changed him. Seems to have made him brave.

"When you get released later, you can go to your Dad's, or you can go home with Lanie, or hell, even have the boys over for a slumber party. And you can lock yourself in the bathroom, or bury yourself in your bed, or do whatever it is that you do. But this time tomorrow, I will be at your door. And you and your bag of things will be coming back home, back to the loft, and we will get through this together. Even if that means you spend the next week curled up on the couch refusing to speak to anyone. I want you close. I _need _you close."

Out of breath, appearing deflated after his speech, he moves to place his lips against her mouth, kisses her stunned features, and locks his eyes with hers.

"Twenty-four hours, Kate, and then no more running."

* * *

He makes his way out of her hospital room, shuts the door gently behind him as he slumps down onto the floor. All of his fight, his courage, has ebbed out of his body in the few steps it took to get out of there.

The heartbreak and sorrow over _everything;_ Alexis being taken, discovering that she was in another country, deceiving those he loves to chase after her, the elation over being home; all of it turns into anguish over what Kate has had to cope with alone; to miscarry their baby _alone._

He has to make this right, the pain that he has caused, the despair he's witnessed in Kate's eyes. He knows that it's going to be a fight, a struggle to get them through this, to earn her forgiveness over the fact that he had left; abandoned her when she was going to need him the most. But he is in this one hundred percent, willing to battle with everything he has, because he's learned over the last few days, that just when it looked like he had lost everything, really, there was so much more to lose.

* * *

_._

_._

_A D and C is a Dilation and Curettage, a surgical procedure in which the cervix is dilated and the uterine lining is scrapped to ensure all the placenta pieces have been removed to help prevent infection and heavy bleeding._

* * *

.

Thank you to every person that reviewed, made it a favourite, and added this story to your alerts. _The response knocked me flat!_

.

Thank you to Kimmiesjoy for sharing your thoughts

and

Thank you to honeyandvodka and your ability to take my disjointed ramblings and make the into the story before you xoxo

.

Your comments are valued!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

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October is Infant/Pregnancy Loss and SIDS Awareness month! Let's take some time to remember the babies who were born asleep, or whom we carried but never met, or those we have held but could not take home, or the ones who made it home, but didn't stay.

.

* * *

Kate pulls the blankets of her bed up higher, as if burrowing under their weight will push her down–minimize her somehow. She's been avoiding the outside world for hours; is trying this on as another way to cope.

After Castle had left her shocked, _stunned_, in that hospital bed, the doctors had finally released her and while going to stay with her Dad wasn't a bad idea, she just wanted to be home, wallow in her own pity party, ignoring everything.

At least that had been the plan until, they'd medically advised her that she really shouldn't be alone just yet, that she needed someone around to ensure that the consequences of _that_ day continued to remain absent. No more collapsing, no more heavy bleeding, no temperatures, no infections. Their list just went on and on until she relented, finally called Lanie back, asked her friend to stay over on one condition; no discussing what had occurred.

Kate has to give her best friend credit where credit's due. Considering all the phone calls and texts that she had ignored from the Medical Examiner and the boys at work– Lanie had still come through. She'd arrived at the hospital, helped her discharge and taken her straight home, all without a word in regard to what had happened, nothing more than small talk.

After arriving at her apartment, Kate had done her best to avoid all conversation. She'd cleaned the place from top to bottom, as if being clean could in some way, erase the feelings inside, could tidy her mind as it hurtled from one agonizing thought to another.

It wasn't until she had showered that she'd snapped. Curled on the cold floor as the water crashed down from above, she had scrubbed her skin raw in a misguided attempt to strip herself of her emotions, before she'd collapsed. Sob after dry sob, had wracked her body, her heart cracking under the pressure and yet she still couldn't weep, and she so desperately craved the release–the ability to cry it out, but nothing would come. And that had destroyed her all over again.

_What kind of person doesn't even cry over their baby._

Pulling the sheets up higher, Kate tries again to disappear within the darkness, clear her mind of all that has happened.

Sensing movement by the doorway, she closes her eyes, blocks Lanie out as she approaches, moving to sit at the edge of the bed. Silence surrounds them, pierces as if pointed, and both women wait for the other to cave first, to break the quiet. Two headstrong, independent individuals who have spent years perfecting the art of getting under each other's skin; exposing the truth.

A loud knocking on the apartment door interrupts them and Lanie jumps; the noise startles her out of their stillness, and the bed shifts as she stands. The noise though, has the opposite effect on Kate, who becomes frozen, muscles tensing–she doesn't need a clock to tell her that twenty-four hours have passed, that Castle is here.

As Lanie huffs a sigh, most likely in disappointment–_when isn't she a disappointment_–she heads out to answer the door, to let him in.

Oh, _damn_. Castle. Here. She's not ready. She's not ready.

Inching down, Kate repositions her head so that she's completely buried, remains hidden as she hears them approach, and she holds her breath waiting. Waiting for the grief to rip her apart again. The sight of him, she knows will fracture all the boxes she has managed to create. All the internal structures that now hold her feelings. So many feelings.

"Kate, you ready to go?" Even through the blankets, she can hear his voice rasp as if the words had moved through sandpaper before finally reaching her.

She wants too. Desperately wants to get up and crawl into his arms, stay there for as long as he will hold her. But the darkness has crawled inside her heart and haunts her thoughts–leaves her doubting everyone around her, leaves her doubting herself, and it laughs at the idea.

He doesn't want her, he doesn't want something so broken and shattered. It's best in the long run, best for him if he gets on with his life. Away from the tragedy that is her. He needs to find someone who is worthy of his magic, his light, his love.

"I'm not coming."

The sentence may be muffled, but she still manages to get it out clearly, strong in its deception, hiding the declaration that she wishes she could say.

_Don't go._

There's a pause, almost as if he's waiting for the rest of her statement, doesn't believe that those three words are all she's going to give him. He fails to realise that those three words are all that she has left. She can't do this, and she wonders for a moment if she's going to survive this.

How could this be worse than a shot to the heart? How could a shooting even begin to compare to the emotional trauma that currently rages through her? Through them both?

"Get. Out. Of. Bed!" Each word is punctuated with a deep breath, as if she was a tantruming child who was refusing to get up for breakfast, rather than an adult responsible for her own life. For the first time since this all began spiralling downhill, she feels something, something other then the black hole that has engulfed every part of her.

She's pissed.

Shoving the covers down so that they pool at her waist, Kate sits upright, back straight, eyes blazing as she spits out, "Don't talk to me as if I were a child!"

Caught in her anger, she misses the signs that he's just as frustrated. Hands curled in fists, biceps tense and protruding, his jaw clenched, as he hisses through his teeth. "Then stop _fucking _acting like one."

His accusation hangs between them, can be seen as if he'd written the words across the space, bright and burning. Her head recoils as if he had physically slapped her, knees rising as she curls in on herself; her fears confirmed, her guilt verified.

Dropping to sit on the end of the bed, Castle scrubs both hands across his face, shoulders slumping, and his eyes shut tightly, causing little wrinkles of skin to form around his eyes.

"Sorry. I just… Alexis was up half the night and the other half was…"

He shakes his head, as her heart splinters. She's been so seized by the hell that has descended onto her life that she's overlooked what he has been experiencing, continues to be going through. How close he has come to losing so much more than just the _concept _of a child.

Hurtling herself forward, Kate crawls rapidly to breach the distance between them, shoves each and every thought aside as she reaches him, slides effectively into his lap, as he pulls her near.

Long legs wrap around his waist as she attempts to get closer, chest to chest, arms moving high so that her hands can coast across his shoulders, fingers sliding into his hair as she pulls him closer. Feels his hands spread wide and firm across her back as her draws her in, holds her tight.

Kate attempts to portray with her body that she is here, that she is here for him too. Even if she continues to believe that she can never be enough for him.

* * *

He pulls her closer, fingers digging into her petite frame, as he tries to keep it all together, tries to push down the urge to weep against her hair, hold her tight and never let her go.

He's drained, so thoroughly fatigued after last night. He had gotten up repeatedly to check on Alexis, standing in her doorway just so he could watch her sleep. He needed to reassure himself that his child was safe under his roof once again. But, then it would all come crashing down; it could have been children; he could have been a father once more.

So many hours had slipped by as he turned the concept over and over in his head; more children meant more to worry about, would leave him open to more pain, the chance for more loss. There was already so much to lose; he couldn't help but brood over the fact that this could be the event that tears Kate and himself apart, scratching and clawing at them until they are no more. That _together_ they are no more.

Yet, if they are able to make their way to the other side of this nightmare, come through stronger, become_ more,_ there's the chance that the images he creates, the stories he tells himself late at night, as he holds her within his arms, maybe, just maybe they could come true. A cheeky little boy, with Kate's emotive eyes, the ability to say so much with just a look, as he regales them with stories about far off lands; new and interesting worlds. Or, a reserved little girl, with loose curls that drift across her back, as she peers stubbornly down her nose against all that you ask, just because she can. Just like her Mom.

His fingers tunnel harder into Kate's sides as he grips her forcefully, as if he could somehow hold onto those images, if he could just hold onto her tight enough. He compels himself to relax, concentrates on flexing each hand until they loosen, settling down against her hips where her body meets with his.

Brushing his lips against her hair, he breathes in the hint of shampoo mixed in with all that is her, and he embraces this moment, the feeling of her in his arms.

Geez, he has missed having her in his arms.

Pulling back, Kate shifts toward the bed enough, so she's no longer across his lap, and he can feel the bubble that had been encasing them, stretching, getting ready to burst. He knows he needs to get her out the door before her objections begin, he needs to get her to the Loft, he needs to get her home.

Shifting Kate the rest of the way so she can fully rest back on the sheets, he stands and examines the room, makes a show of looking around while asking, "Have you packed your bag?"

Their eyes lock for a moment, a battle of will power and determination, but whatever had her lurching into his arms, seems to be able to override the objections that are no doubt hovering at the end of her tongue. Shaking her head to indicate no, Kate dips her head, begins picking at the skin surrounding her nails, clearly doing her all she can to avoid the next words out of his mouth.

Except that it's not his words that break their standoff.

Moving into the room, forgotten by both, Lanie heaves a large duffel bag into his arms, while commenting, "This should see her through for a little while."

Kate's head immediately snaps up, eyes narrowing as she glares at their friend who may have overstepped her place in this, but he's taking the win. Hoisting the large bag onto his shoulder, he uses his free one hand, to reach and grasp Kate by the arm, pulls slightly harder than is expected, and she half falls forward before catching herself.

Transferring her glare onto him, her mouth opens and he jumps in. Hoping that if he can keep her off balance enough, he'll be able to get her walking through the front door without her realising that she's being carefully shoved out of it.

"Do you need anything else? We need to get going, Alexis is home by herself."

He knows using his daughter is slightly underhanded, but his tight hold on his emotions is crumbling, and the desire to pick Kate up and throw her over his shoulder is increasing.

He wants his family home, safe, under one roof, so he can relax for a moment. Try to get a grasp on all that has happened, all that they've lost, so he can work on a plan to get them moving forward. This is his fault. They're no longer pregnant because of him. He needs to fix this, make them right again; make his family whole again, and this involves Kate walking out her door, and through his.

He feels her stand straighter, hands slide and drift until they are clasped, together, and he looks forward, eyes the nearest exit as if that alone will get her through. He's surprised when it seems to be working, as she starts shuffling forward in apparent defeat. Taking what he can get, he waits until she has moved enough so that he can follow behind, wants her to know that he is right here, that she's not going anywhere without him. That he'll always have her back.

* * *

.

Thank you to every person that reviewed, made it a favourite, and added this story to your alerts. _The response knocked me flat!_

.

Thank you to Kimmiesjoy for sharing your thoughts

and

Thank you to honeyandvodka and your ability to take my disjointed ramblings and make the into the story before you xoxo

.

Your comments are valued!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

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October is Infant/Pregnancy Loss and SIDS Awareness month! Let's take some time to remember the babies who were born asleep, or whom we carried but never met, or those we have held but could not take home, or the ones who made it home, but didn't stay.

.

* * *

Walking through the door of the loft he pauses for a moment, eyes slipping closed as he inhales deeply. Lets the feeling of being home, of being here with Kate, wash over him. Not a word's been said since he had ushered her out of her front door. He'd left Lanie left to depart at her own pace, and while he was grateful to have just gotten Kate in the taxi, the drive had been long and awkward, as she had sat and stared out the window, silent.

Opening his eyes and moving her bag onto his shoulder, he takes her in. She's standing straight, as if she's uncomfortable to be here, as if she's bracing herself against some unseen force and he has to catch his sigh of frustration before it escapes.

He'd promised that she could do whatever she wanted too, once here, that all he wanted was for her to be _here_, be with _him_. That their usual pattern of running and hiding in their respective corners needed to be broken if they were to survive, move forward through this. They have to do this together, but he also needs to let her do this at her own pace. He has spent so many years following her lead, standing behind her, gently prodding when he sees the opportunity and he knows that coming through the other side of this is going to take all his skill at knowing and loving Kate Beckett.

He put them in this position; caused her to worry and stress; to stop eating and sleeping properly. He'd been so focused on what he needed to do that he had forgotten–put aside–his partnership with Kate and this was the price he was paying for it. Their child's life was the consequence for his self-absorbed actions.

This time the sigh does escape.

Leaving her be, he shuffles into the bedroom, releases her bag so that it drops heavily onto the bed. It bounces a fraction against the expensive mattress, and he stares, hypnotized by its actions, grateful for something to focus on. He has the crazy notion that maybe he should unpack her belongings. Would that ensure that she stays longer, or just create a date for his own execution?

Deciding to leave it alone he fluffs around the room, straightens pillows, smooths down sheets, avoiding the fact that Kate is probably still standing at the door if she hasn't come to her senses and fled.

Walking past his books–which double as a wall to his office–he notices for the first time his daughter curled at one end of the couch, looking so tiny, so small. Images of years ago, when she would sneak in and fall asleep to the sounds of him at the computer, flash through his mind. Life was so much easier when he could tell a good story to chase away the bad dreams, spin a tale about princesses and castles, and she would peacefully close her eyes, trusting that he would be able to fight off all that was bad within the world.

He can't do that anymore.

The thought shatters him, leaves him clinging to the wooden framework, as he concentrates on breathing. His little girl's life had come so close to ending, one wrong move at any moment during the last week, and she would have been nothing more than a body awaiting Lanie, and the grief leaves him shaking.

He knows he needs to focus on the fact that she's here, that she's safe, but he doesn't have to be a bestselling author to conjure up images of how very different the outcome could have been. How much he could have lost within a few short days and his thoughts once again return to Kate.

He wishes he could just pick a problem; a person, and direct all of his attention to them; at the moment he feels very much like he is being torn in half by Kate and Alexis.

Actually, make that torn in three. Kate. Alexis. And his own grief for his unborn child.

He never would have thought it was possible to love someone, miss someone that had never really been in existence. It's not like they knew Kate was pregnant, had celebrated and began planning for their child's future. He never had the chance to watch her skin stretch as their child grew inside of her, made her cranky, made her glow. Yet, when his thoughts grow quiet, he realises that he _aches _for what's been taken, for what's been lost. For what they may continue to lose.

Shaking his head, he lightly thumps it into the shelf, as if he could release the thoughts trapped inside, shake them loose, and he moves toward the door. He needs to at least work on one of the problems at hand, and hiding in his room isn't helping anybody.

As he takes the three steps needed to exit, he catches a movement in the corner of his eye, and his body comes to a halt. Shifting marginally, he conceals himself as much as he can given the spaces that dot the pseudo wall, stands as if frozen and watches as Kate enters the office.

She progresses into the room, hesitancy clouding her features and he sees her stumble as she, too, notices Alexis. Kate comes to a stop as she no doubt weighs up what to do. Back away without bringing attention to herself or move forward and face the situation at hand?

He inhales sharply–hopes that neither of them can hear the noise–as Kate proceeds to the couch, sinks into the opposite end, feet curling under her body as she places herself into a small ball. For all that they are opposites, Kate and Alexis have more than a few things in common.

Clearing her throat, Kate acquires his daughter's attention, and he witnesses the moment as Alexis comes to, realises that she is no longer alone, recognises who her newfound company is.

"Beck–Kate?"

Her words sound tired, matching everything about his child in this instant. She looks exhausted.

The pause feels larger than life, growing as both woman stare at each other, before they speak tentatively as one.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes dart between them, but it's Kate's face that captures his attention, her look of confusion bleeds across her features as she comments, "There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Alexis. I'm the one that's sorry…" Her nose scrunches adorably as she searches for the right words. "I'm sorry that your Dad isn't able to focus completely on you. That I'm taking up his time."

_Damn it_.

It takes all his restraint not to barge in there and shake his partner until she sees some sense, shakes the thought that she could ever be a waste of time right out of her head. Kate, a burden? But Alexis speaks and it nearly knocks him to the ground.

"No. I'm sorry. About the baby…" Each word decreases in volume until he's straining to hear what comes next. "I always wanted a brother or sister."

Her revelation tears through his heart, memories flashing through his mind of all the times growing up she would point to siblings, and note how happy they looked, all the times she had included it on her Christmas wish.

She would have been a perfect big sister.

Finally coming too, he pushes those thoughts to one side, observes through blurry eyes, as Kate struggles to keep it together. Her body rigid, bottom lip caught between her teeth as the precious skin blanches white, and a dam breaks inside his heart.

Marching forward, he enters the room and advances until he can collapse into the space between them. Reaching with both arms, he hooks a hand around each of their bodies and flexing his muscles, he pulls them both into him. He is thankful that they both move forward, that they're co-operative as he draws them closer. He clutches them tightly against his sides as if by sheer force of will he can hold his family together.

* * *

Staring at the mirror, Kate wills herself to leave the bathroom; the process of getting changed into her pyjamas finished a while ago now, and she's been messing around at the sink ever since. She can't even pinpoint what it is she's avoiding. The late afternoon had disappeared quietly as the three of them had remained on the couch, lost in their own thoughts as a movie played softly in the background. Dinner had followed just as quietly, food was shunted around their plates rather than eaten, and silence had dogged their every move until Alexis had absconded to her room and Kate had taken shelter in the shower.

She estimates that she must have been in here for over an hour and at some point she's going to have to exit or Castle will no doubt come in and drag her out. Except he seems to be maintaining his own distance. She has never witnessed him so quiet, so still.

As she gazes at her withdrawn reflection, she speculates that for all that he wanted her here, maybe being under the same roof together is just too much for him. A constant reminder of what she has done, all that's gone.

She almost wishes that he would talk, rage against her, at least then she would know what is going on inside his magnificent mind. Would know where she stands, what she needs to do make it better for him. Heal the loss within him somehow.

Seriously, as if she somehow is going to be able to fix this. Fix them. All she has ever done is destroy.

Shaking her head, she attempts to shift the black cloud that is once again descending. She's done enough hours of therapy to know that her mind can lie and conjure up half-truths easily enough, that it will have her slipping and sliding her way into anxiety and depression.

She needs to snap out of it! She needs to leave the bathroom!

Taking a deep breath, Kate splashes a hand full of water over her face, wastes some more time at the towel rack, before moving toward the bedroom.

One foot in front of the other. All she has to do is put one foot in front of the other.

Her footsteps stumble as she ultimately exits, walking into the room to discover Castle has settled in for the night. Sitting propped up slightly as he scrolls leisurely on the iPad, he is engrossed in whatever he's reading, eyes never straying from the page. His hair is damp from a shower that must have occurred upstairs and the thought slices through her. He normally would have joined her.

_Is he that repulsed he couldn't join her?_

Pushing through as the panic rises, she continues shuffling toward her side of the bed, pulls back the covers as he at last acknowledges her presence.

"If you're going to sleep, you can hit the lights. I'm done here."

She forces her frozen body to move, to act naturally, as she follows through with his request. Darkness bathes the room, the light from his screen her only guide back; she's thankful that he remains unaware of the way her chest expands considerably as she tries to get the air back in. Tries to breathe again.

Slipping under the blankets, she lies on her back, hands clasped together across her ribs; she feels her heartbeat pounding loudly in her chest.

_What is she doing here?_

Rolling onto her side, back facing her partner, she raises a hand to punch her pillow, disguising her frustration as an attempt to plump the material. Anger has always been so much easier to deal with than devastation.

Dropping down, she closes her eyes, wishes her body would relax, would go to sleep; she attempts to ignore Castle doing his own dance behind her as he too searches for slumber.

So caught up in her attempts to drift off to sleep, she almost misses the feather like touch against her shirt, and she concentrates on remaining still. Worried that any movement may scare him away, and as he slides his left hand tenderly against her skin, fingers creeping under her sleep shirt, she comprehends just how much she has _missed_ him. She craves his touch, desires physical contact.

Relaxing into his caress, he must have perceived her actions as a positive sign and he rapidly nudges his right hand under her side, until he is able to encompass her waist completely. Their bodies fit together perfectly- they always have, and he spoons her.

His fingers trail gently along the flat planes of her stomach, before they interlock with hers and come to rest on her lower abdomen. As if they were cradling a life within her. A life that no longer exists.

Kate recognises that the bed is shaking, experiences a curious moment where she can't work out what's happening, before she realises that it's her. Lifting a hand to her face, she swipes it across her skin and comprehends that she's crying.

She's finally crying.

The dam breaks, shatters into tiny pieces as it all comes to the surface. Her sorrow, _their_ sorrow; and tears stream down her cheeks as Castle palms what would have been their child growing inside of her. She feels his own tears seep into her hair as he burrows closer to her. Pulling her hands from her face, he realigns his fingers so that they are able to join with hers. Tightly clasped. No space between them, joined as if one.

* * *

.

Thank you to every person that reviewed, made it a favourite, and added this story to your alerts. _The response knocked me flat!_

.

Thank you to Kimmiesjoy for sharing your thoughts

and

Thank you to honeyandvodka and your ability to take my disjointed ramblings and make the into the story before you xoxo

.

Your comments are valued!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

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.

October is Infant/Pregnancy Loss and SIDS Awareness month! Let's take some time to remember the babies who were born asleep, or whom we carried but never met, or those we have held but could not take home, or the ones who made it home, but didn't stay.

.

* * *

Entering the elevator, they turn as one to face the doors as they close; when Kate had announced she was headed into work this morning a hush had descended. They still haven't really spoken. Instead of comfortable sweats that would have been perfect for lounging around the loft, Kate had exited the bathroom dressed in a pants suit that was more formal than her usual Precinct attire.

Confused over her thought process–nothing new there–Castle had done his best to convince her to remain where she was, had argued with her to see reason, had wanted her to stay _home_.

* * *

He paces like a caged animal at the foot of the bed, as she finishes buttoning up her crisp white dress shirt; tucks it neatly into her ironed pants. He briefly contemplates what was going through Lanie's head when she had packed Kate's things yesterday, but as his partner pokes her head into the wardrobe, he realizes that it must have been amongst the outfits that have made its way into her side of the shelves.

He smiles, just a bit, at the thought that she has a side to the closet, before he goes back to the matter at hand.

"Are you even cleared for work?" He knows his tone sounds slightly exasperated, but he's having a hard time keeping up with her this morning.

Last night they had finally fallen asleep, limbs entwined, bodies aching; they had grieved as one, _cried as one_. Anguish had ripped through them, but in the dark they had found comfort in each other's arms, had held tight until the tears had dried and slumber had overtaken them quietly.

This morning she has been untouchable, striding around the room as if it's any other day, as if nothing has happened. The giant step forward he felt they had taken last night now feels like a dream, as he stands bathed in the morning light.

Reappearing from where she had been searching for her matching jacket, Kate gives him an irritated look, as she shrugs into the clothing.

"Castle I'm fine. I feel fine. There's no reason _not_ to go in this morning. I've taken enough days off. So I'm going in, and I promise I'll come back tonight, okay?" Her tone of voice indicates how much she's pacifying him, as if he was still half asleep and she's trying to explain the concept of nuclear fusion, but he's not letting her go that easily.

"Give me five and I'll come too." He takes the question out of his voice, ensures that it is more of a declaration; he's coming with her, and she can just wait a minute.

Moving through the motions, he begins his own routine, prepares for a day of fighting crime, as her words bring him down a notch.

"You need to stay here with Alexis. She needs you to be close." Kate's statement is true, he'll give her that, but he can't help but speculate how much those words apply to herself, rather than to his daughter. He observes her as she fidgets with the band on her wrist, fingers twisting awkwardly as she maneuvers the watch around her arm, as she avoids looking at him.

Why does it have to be so difficult for them?

Buttoning his own shirt up, he moves over to the dresser, attempts to figure out a way that he can be in two places at once, while also attaching the difficult cuff link onto his sleeve. One frustration flows into another and nothing wants to work this morning.

"Damn it." The expulsion of air sums up the whole situation, and his eyes slam shut, wishes that it would all just _stop_ so he could get a grip, but his feelings of uselessness override all other thoughts.

_Why does it all have to be so hard?_

He feels her thin fingers slide over his, pushes them gently aside as she finishes the task for him. They stay against his hand, tracing small circles, skimming across his skin and the movement stills him, calms the chaos in his mind, and allows him to work on a solution.

"Do you have to go in?" He asks the question again, even though he knows the answer, waits for her to confirm.

"I _need _to go in, Castle." Her voice is soft and for the first time this morning, he can see the progress from last night, a thin ray of light that breaches his heart. And while he's still bothered by her desire to go into the Precinct, at least she's speaking to him, communicating with him.

"Mother should be home until midday, I'll come back then and …" The statement runs its course prematurely, but for the life of him, he can't work out which words should go next. Leave her again? Abandon her and hope that being at work doesn't become too much? That she doesn't run and retreat as soon as she's free of him?

It hurts too much to think.

He knows that he's probably not giving her enough credit.

Her hands leave his, and he opens his eyes for the first time since the cufflinks had gotten the better of him, and watches as she lifts her fingertips in order to brush them soothingly under his eyes. The skin beneath is no doubt dark and shadowed from lack of sleep and too much strain.

"It sounds like a good plan." Her whisper is spoken into the delicate space between their lips, before she closes the gap, placing the tiniest of kisses against him.

Pulling back, she moves away, returns to her preparations; and he can do nothing but silently continue with his own. He watches from the corner of his eyes as her face hardens; the mask that she so often hides behind gradually finds its place, firmly situated on her features as she prepares to go back to work.

* * *

The elevator doors open onto their floor, and Kate forces herself to take a deep breath, prepares herself for what is going to be an uncomfortable entrance. She hates being the center of attention; the concept of everyone looking at her as they gossip over her medical emergency evokes an iron like vice around her body, causes her muscles to contract.

She has to compel herself to step over the threshold, is so very grateful that Castle had pushed this morning, insisted that he come too, if only for a little while. His presence by her side is enough to steady her, quiet the inner commotion, and she steps forward in what she hopes is an even and collected manner.

Striding with a purpose she doesn't feel, she reaches her desk and unloads her bag, avoids everyone's curious gazes as she scrutinizes the surface, is hit by the oddity that it all appears the same. It remains the same, yet somehow she's become very different.

_No. __No__, she's not. Everything's the same. Everything's normal._

Casually walking past her, Castle approaches the boys, seems to sense that she needs a second, and he cuts off their approach, steering them back toward their own desks. The manly exchange of back slaps and shoulder punches almost brings a smile to her face, and she realizes that while locked away in her own bubble, the boys must have been going through their own issues.

Their worry and concern over what was happening to her, anxiety over Castle and Alexis, and Kate comprehends that this is the first time they've had a chance to release some of that emotion. And they're releasing it onto Castle's unfortunate frame as Ryan continues his thumping, and Castle stands and takes it all with a large grin on his face.

That is until the Captain's door opens sharply and it stifles all the happy chatter. Peering over the glasses that are perched on the edge of her nose, Gates takes in the scene before her, acknowledges Castle's return with a slight nod and what could nearly be classified as a smile.

The corner of her lips turns up a fraction, before she carries on with her perusal of the bullpen, eyes finding Kate, and she steadily scrutinizes the younger woman. Lifting a pointed finger she indicates the detective while commanding, "Beckett. A word."

Dreads creeps along Kate's spine and she shifts back from her desk, takes the steps needed to follow Gates' order, yet as she looks up, head held high in determination, her eyes catch sight of the whiteboard and it all begins unraveling.

Thankfully, the clear white surface has no evidence of what has occurred, there's no picture of Alexis staring back at her, but the memory is enough to crash through her, break her carefully constructed façade.

Her eyes drop to the floor and she's almost surprised that it's clean. For a moment she had the bizarre thought that it should still be stained bright red with her blood, with the blood of her baby, and she can't breathe.

She can't breathe.

Is this where the life had finally ended? Or was it in the bathroom as she heaved herself dry? Was it even that day? She never thought to ask, question the ins and outs of what had transpired, or the why's surrounding her loss.

Their loss.

Castle, apparently detecting her turmoil, rushes to her side, and she makes herself walk forward, brushes past him, so that she can at last close the distance between her and the Captain. She enters the office without a backward glance.

Standing awkwardly in front of the long desk, Beckett holds herself up tall, back straight. Hard eyes give the impression of calm disinterest, or at least that's what she hopes.

Strolling casually around the homicide cop, Gates wedges herself between Kate and the desk, perches on the edge, and blatantly studies Kate's features, which _should_ reveal nothing, her mask of professionalism firmly in place.

"How are you, Detective?" Gates' tone is low and hints at concern without overpowering the sentence and Kate's appreciative. She doesn't want the pity. Doesn't need it.

'I'm fine." The cold words are clipped, and seem to be the opposite of what the Captain wishes to hear, as her lips draw tightly to pucker, before she replies.

"I highly doubt that." Her statement stings and Beckett's eyes spontaneously lock with Gates', holding for a moment, before she returns to look head on. Face forward.

Deciding that since there was no real question there, she chooses to ignore the statement, to remain silent, waits and sees what direction this little talk is heading.

"Have you seen anyone yet?"

Gates' question confuses her to no end, and she can't work out exactly whom she was supposed to see. Curiosity itches within, but Kate won't take the bait, remains–at least on the surface–indifferent.

Apparently, the older woman never expected an answer; she forges ahead, lays it out, making it clear for the first time what she is expecting.

"The therapist you saw after your shooting-I need him to clear you again for duty. You've suffered a loss, and while you have my greatest sympathy, while under my command I need you fit- not just physically, but mentally." Her words collide with Kate's fragile interior and it takes all that she has not to rage against the woman before her.

She doesn't want her _sympathy,_ or her _pity, _she wants to go back to her fucking job and get on with her life!

Breathing heavily through her nose, Kate attempts to count to ten, tries to push the anger down, but her emotions are sent reeling with Gates' next words.

"I have no sway, and I can't force him, but I would appreciate it if you could take Mr. Castle to be cleared as well."

The statement shocks Kate from her chilled demeanor and her mouth opens wide in shock. They had, they thought, remained successful in keeping their private life private. Ensured that they kept their relationship out of the precinct. Apparently, they hadn't been that effective.

Both woman eye each other; maintain their stare, as Gates finishes her speech, clarifying her position.

"He has been through his own traumatic experience, and I feel, that for both of you to work effectively_ together,_ you need to have _everything _discussed in a neutral setting."

Kate can do nothing but nod, still reeling from the words she has heard, the subtext so cleverly expressed, which said it all without saying a thing.

Damn, and she had thought Castle and herself could do subtext well. Apparently they have nothing on Gates!

The Captain's hand gently rises to squeeze her shoulder, before she pushes Kate toward the door. Her parting words address Kate's back, as she exits.

"Get the all clear and we'll see you _both _back at work next week."

* * *

.

Thank you to every person that reviewed, made it a favourite, and added this story to your alerts. _Going over 100 brought tears to my eyes!_

.

Thank you to Kimmiesjoy for sharing your thoughts

and

Thank you to honeyandvodka and your ability to take my disjointed ramblings and make the into the story before you xoxo

.

Your comments are valued!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

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October is Infant/Pregnancy Loss and SIDS Awareness month! Let's take some time to remember the babies who were born asleep, or whom we carried but never met, or those we have held but could not take home, or the ones who made it home, but didn't stay.

.

* * *

The magazine jumps slightly in his hand, and he peers at it curiously, before realizing that the displacement is caused by his leg. His leg that's unable to stop its constant movement, a slight vibration that sets his teeth on edge, and it doesn't matter what position he shifts himself into, his limb just won't stop moving.

Rationally, he knows that he's probably just nervous; the idea of going with Kate to see Dr. Burke had set him on edge the moment she had mentioned it on the elevator ride down from the bullpen. Her words were clipped and straight to the point. She wanted to go back to work, Gates needed them to jump some psychological hoops, and here he now sits.

It's late, but apparently Kate is well liked or well known enough to get into see Dr. Burke the same day she calls, and he doesn't know whether to be thankful or worried that she seems to have this sway with her therapist.

Just how many late night emergency appointments has she had?

Turning his head, he watches her, back straight, eyes gliding over the pictures in the magazine that she seems to be reading, but as page after page is turned, he deliberates how much of this cool, calm demeanor is actually representative of Kate's true state. The way her teeth nibble into her bottom lip, her shoulders held high, tense, as her head moves automatically to glance from side to side.

Maybe she's just as nervous as he is?

The solid door to his left opens with a click and he can almost feel the sweat break out along his hairline, as a middle-aged African American man strolls forward. There's a sense of calm that surrounds the doctor, a tranquility that is only confirmed as he smiles slightly and asks, "How are you this evening?"

His voice is deep, hypnotizing, and Rick finds himself nodding out of habit. He feels that he could be asked anything at this moment and he would follow in a trance like state.

Kate stands up while effectively tossing the magazine away and Rick mimics her actions, follows her into the large room, hand-resting low against her back.

A part of him needs the contact, the feel of her body firm under his hand; the other part of him is almost expecting her to turn and run at any moment.

The last thought, he realizes, is just a little ridiculous; Kate had been voluntarily showing up for appointments like this for over a year. She has never needed him to stand and block her exit before, and he can't see why today would be any different.

Except that today, everything feels different.

For one, the fact that their relationship appears to be well and truly exposed while at the precinct, leaves him slightly anxious. He has always been at the bottom of Gates' list of people worthy of her time, although right now, she appears willing to let him stay and to allow his partnership with Beckett to continue.

His other concern is that while he hopes an appointment like today gives them an opportunity to move forward, his anxiety that it will have the opposite effect continues to rear its ugly head. Communication between the two of them has always been below par, the truth generally screamed at each other during epic fights rather than calmly discussed like adults.

After entering, he stands awkwardly next to a table, takes in the area. The fourth wall is nothing but glass, allowing the night skyline to bleed into the room. Rows of books soften the area behind a chair, a matching one opposite. Everything gives the feeling of lightness, and he can see why Kate would like this room. There's a sense of openness about the space.

As the other man comes forward to shake Rick's hand, introductions are made and pleasantries are exchanged, before the doctor takes his seat, leaving the one across from him open.

Turning to face Kate he indicates for her to sit, in what he assumes is her regular seat, but as she shakes her head and strolls toward the window. He realizes that despite the calmness, she must feel like a caged animal in a setting like this. He can't help but agree, although he takes the remaining seat out of politeness.

"What can I do for you tonight, Kate? You mentioned on the phone that you needed an emergency appointment so you could go back to work. So that you both could. So what has happened?"

Dr. Burke's voice is low, steady, his words like honey, and Rick makes a mental note to be careful with what comes out of his mouth. He can see himself being lulled into disclosing all his secrets if the good doctor asks him in that tone.

Turning to watch Kate as she brushes her hair behind her ear, he sees the motion causes more to fall down in front of her face, and it gives her something to hide behind. She pauses, seems to be searching for the right words and he listens, astonished, as she coolly describes the last week.

"We've had some obstacles to overcome this last week and the captain wants assurances that we are both mentally sound."

Tentacles of fire thread themselves across his chest, coil around his throat as he struggles to breathe.

They've had some _obstacles_! His daughter being _kidnapped_? Miscarrying their _child_? These are _obstacle_s?

Apparently sensing his building indignation over her words, the doctor's brown eyes focus on him and asks, "How would you describe the last week, Rick?"

Vaulting out of his seat–he realizes that this is why she stands–he turns to face her; the frustration he swore to himself he would contain encompasses every word.

"A normal murder investigation becomes a kidnapping–becomes a kidnapping of my own daughter, in fact, and after finding out she's in Paris, I _leave_, abandoning you."

He's on a roll now, and the words become louder, fiercer, as each one leaves his lips. "_You_–who in the meantime collapsed at work as a result of a horrific miscarriage, were forced to live through that experience _alone, _until I came back to hear the news that we'd lost our _baby_. A _baby _I didn't even realize we were _having_!"

The air that comes out of his lungs in short puffs is not enough to sustain him and he's forced to move back to the chair, head slumping forward as he places it between his knees.

That position always seems to help in the movies.

* * *

Silence overtakes the room after Castle's outburst, and Kate experiences the need to run, to put as much space between them as possible. It's as if his words have confirmed her worst fears; that she's to blame, that he's finally lashing out at her. She feels like his rage is directed at her, and rightly so.

But she had promised not to run, had wanted so desperately for this time to be better, for them to find a new dance, rather than her usual coping mechanisms, and as her eyes lock with Burke's she watches as he indicates toward Castle. Indicates that maybe she needs to step up and take responsibility for a change.

Kneeling before her partner, she cards her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, gently moves them until they can cup his face, and lifting his chin slowly, he's forced to look at her.

"Castle, I'm sorry." Her words may as well have been a slap; his head recoils out of her hands and his voice breaks as he sobs his own apology.

"_I'm_ sorry. It's my fault. For leaving you. I'm sorry you went through that terror alone."

Shaking her head vigorously, Kate recognizes that they've had this argument before, that while she feels she is to blame for their baby's miscarriage, he feels just as at fault for not having been there. She doesn't know how to get past this circle of guilt.

Hearing a throat clearing softly behind her, Kate becomes conscious of the fact that they are not alone; she had forgotten that they were in therapy, and together as one, the distraught pair turns to face Burke.

"The last week seems to have pushed you both to the limits as individuals, and as a couple. You both appear to have taken on the responsibility, the guilt for the horrific events that you've both experienced." His fingers create a steeple for his chin to rest on as he continues.

"Yet, from where I'm sitting, these events sound completely out of your hands. That regardless of what either one of you wanted, they would have occurred anyway. And by taking on this blame, all you are doing is keeping the other away."

His statement drifts across the two of them, as Castle sits up straighter, and Kate forces herself to stand and transfer her weight so she's able to perch against the edge of the armrest.

Feeling Castle's hand coast across her back, settling itself firmly against her hip; she follows his lead, mimicking his actions. Her fingers trace along his collar, before coming to rest on his shoulder; she palms the hard muscle underneath and allows the familiar sensation to ground her, as she listens to her therapist's words.

"I am assuming here, that you were both unaware of the pregnancy? That the tragic situation was an appalling shock to you both?"

They nod as one, both looking straight ahead, avoiding each other. Kate can only take a guess as to what is going through Castle's mind, knows that she is too petrified to look in his direction. They have always avoided the hard questions and she worries that they might not survive the experience tonight.

"Had you been trying for a baby?"

Dr. Burke's question is probably reasonable enough considering her pregnancy, but his words are coming too close to the fragile line they toe every day. She vaguely notices Castle next to her, shaking his head, as the next question leaves her frozen.

"Are you wanting to have children together?"

Kate literally has no idea how to answer that. For so long she has been putting one foot in front of the other just to survive, keeping others at an arm's length so that she can hide within her own pain. And until Castle came into her life, she was always content with the direction her life was taking. But, now?

And what about Castle? She has asked herself the question more than once, whether he would want another child. Given his relationship with Alexis, and the bond that they share, would he really want to disrupt that?

Her hand on his shoulder feels his escalating tension, the muscles contract as he remains as still as she is. The question remains unanswered, hovering between them, as Burke glances from one to the other.

"Kate, how long have the two of you been together, not as partners at work, but together in your personal lives as well?"

Burke's eyes softly descend on her, she assumes because of their previous history, and her tongue darts across her lips, swirls them with moisture as she buys some time.

"May, we've been together since May."

Her words are faint yet steady; memories of that night flow between them as Castle elevates his large hand so that it can span her upper thigh, resting solidly against her.

She's apparently not the only one caught up in recollections of that night.

"And when you decided to take that next step in your relationship, did you discuss what you both wanted as you moved forward?"

She doesn't know about Castle, but she's almost certain that panic is blossoming across her features. Panic that's probably easily visible to Dr. Burke.

Because the night that they got together consisted of a few short statements of want and desire. The rest was rather non-verbal, at least if you didn't count the words they had whispered against each other's skin as they finally became one.

Seeming to take their silence as a negative, Dr. Burke continues his interrogation, rivaling her own ability when it comes to invoking the fear of god in others.

"In the many months since then, have you discussed what you both want for the future? Moving in? Engagements? Weddings? Children?"

The elephant in the room only grows larger as they continue to avoid each other and avoid the doctor's probing.

Kate feels her anxiety claw along her spine; the fear, and doubt that she battles against every day. The what if's and uncertainties that keep her up at night, staring at the endless, white ceiling as she replays these questions over and over in her mind.

Yet, it's Castle's voice that finally breaks through her inner consciousness, not more of Burke's queries.

"What happens if after all these years of wanting to be together, of wanting this relationship, now that we're finally here, I can't make this work?"

His words rip her apart and she almost falls from the edge of the armrest as she turns, takes him in for the first time, and she can't help but voice her own concerns.

"You don't think we'll work?"

Her voice creaks on the last sound and her hands lift to cover her mortified face. It's as if his words have finally confirmed all that she's worried about, and it leaves her on the verge of tears.

Turning in his seat, Castle's hands lift as they cover hers, and he brings himself up and close enough so that he can whisper against her fingers.

"You're not listening. What happens if _I _can't make this work, Kate? I've tried twice before and it all falls apart and I can't―." A sob tears through him and she can feel the strain it is taking to get his words out, the self-doubt that rolls off him.

"I made it through the last two ending because I knew the alternative, being together, wasn't healthy for anyone. But I don't know how I would be able to get on without you, if you wake up one day and realize that this isn't what you want anymore. And I know that's probably not healthy, but you are in every part of my life, my pseudo job, my writing, my home, and I don't know how I'm suppose to move forward from that?"

Shifting her hands away from her face, she weaves her fingers through his, pulls their arms apart so her head can rest, cheek against cheek with his own, as she turns his statement back onto him.

"Do you think I would be able to move on with my life if, one day, you wake up and realize that you're stuck with some cop whose tragedy encases her life at every turn? You are in _my_ work, _my_ life, _my_ heart. There's nowhere I could go that wouldn't remind me of you in this city."

He pushes his mouth against hers, as if he wants to somehow take back her words, forcefully push them to one side, yet a throat clears to the front of them.

Breaking apart with a jerk, they turn, slightly embarrassed over having forgotten exactly where they are.

"Time's up, but I will give you your clearance, on one condition, so listen carefully."

His dark brown eyes travel between them as they nod in sync; confirming that they are both willing to hear what he has to say.

"You need to start communicating, that goes without saying." His stare is pointed and they both nod in agreement.

"I feel that you both are so afraid of what the other _might _say, that you aren't prepared to hear the answer, an answer that may very well be the same as what you are hoping for."

His words make sense. How do you allow someone to look if you are so afraid of what their reaction will be when they see?

"And a word of advice, from someone who has seen a lot. You may find that even when you are on different pages about what you want in life, if you want that life to be together, then you will be willing to work out a way, compromise to a degree, so that you both can feel successful within that relationship."

Burke stands, hands clasped before him as he gazes down at the two of them. "You clearly want this to work, so stop fighting each other at every turn. The stress that you two face on a daily basis doesn't need to be added to by your own attempts at self-sabotage. Talk. Grieve. Allow yourself to be loved by the other, and if you need it, I'm here for you."

* * *

.

Thank you to every person that reviewed- _Going over 100 brought tears to my eyes!_

And to those that made it a favourite, and added this story to your alerts.

.

Thank you to Kimmiesjoy for sharing your thoughts

and

Thank you to honeyandvodka and your ability to take my disjointed ramblings and make the into the story before you xoxo

.

Your comments are valued!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

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October is Infant/Pregnancy Loss and SIDS Awareness month! Let's take some time to remember the babies who were born asleep, or whom we carried but never met, or those we have held but could not take home, or the ones who made it home, but didn't stay.

.

* * *

Standing in the loft's entrance, Rick feels lost, without direction; he wants this part of their story– _the anguish_– to conclude. He wants a new beginning. If he could only work out how to make that happen.

As soon as they had walked through the front door, Kate had made her way straight into the bedroom, mumbling quietly about needing a shower, and it's something he can completely understand.

Ever since they had exited Doctor Burke's office, he has felt a thin layer of guilt, grief, and pain tear at his skin, and it continues to leave him with the sensation of having been sand blasted. Like there was nothing left of him but exposed ribbons of flesh, open for the world to see.

He aches for his chance to hop under the cool water, to relieve some of the sting that encompasses his body… his heart… his soul, thinks that after their joint session, Kate may even be up to sharing the shower with him.

However, he first needs to check in with his daughter, sit her down, and make sure that they are all moving forward together. He can no longer stand to be torn in separate directions– he wants them all on the road to recovery together– as a family.

Giving downstairs a once-over, he notes the hush that encompasses the room and he moves his body wearily up the wooden steps. He knows bringing up her kidnapping is going to require a delicate touch– which generally hasn't been a part of his parenting playbook– but they haven't had a chance to sit and discuss the ramifications of living through that kind of event.

_Hell_, they haven't even had the chance to talk about what had happened; her abduction, their time apart, her rescue, his father. They were whisked away from their debriefing at the embassy to the plane. Once they had arrival back, he had traveled straight to the hospital to see Kate, and his mind has been a jumbled mess ever since.

He knows though– has always known– that his bond with his daughter is a unique one and it will survive this. They have battled through the years as comrades, worked together more than a typical parent–child relationship, and for the most part, it has paid off.

Alexis has– to a degree– been in charge of her own destiny, but he resigns himself to the fact that this situation may be different. If he doesn't encourage her to get some of the emotions out, to yell and scream about the horrible ordeal she went through, she might bottle it up and go through life pretending that it doesn't matter.

And he's seen firsthand what that can do to a person.

Knocking gently at her door, he waits for her to call out, indicate that he's free to enter. When she does so, he follows her instructions, and moves into the room, sitting at the end of her bed.

He's grateful when she shifts her way over; joins him so their sides can bump gently, and he takes a deep breath, prepares himself for what he needs to do. To rip open her psychological wounds, to discuss what she went through, what she's still going through.

"Dad?" Her voice is timid, uncertain and he realizes that by taking so long in his mental preparation, he's beginning to worry her.

Sliding his hand over hers, he hopes that by tethering them as one he can hold it together.

"I want you to see someone, Alexis. A therapist. I want you to talk about what you went through so that it doesn't become a burden that sneaks up on you later." He risks a sideways glance, witnesses her pale skin blanche a lighter shade of white, before she tugs her hand free.

Standing, she begins pacing along the small corridor of space around the edge of her bed, joins her hands in front of her so that she can twist and squeeze at the poor flesh.

He waits her out, allows her to get her thoughts organized, and gives her the time to form a counter argument. Yet he knows on this, he has to make a stand– it has certainly helped in other areas of his life.

"I really don't think I need to go over it all, Dad. I'm fine." Her voice is strong, yet her body language brings attention to the fact that those words are a lie, her own way of trying to live behind a façade.

"You're fine now, Alexis and there's a difference. You have yet to go back to Columbia, go back to the fast paced life of assignments and due dates, and friends that want to go out at night. And I've seen it up close and personal, that wanting to be okay and actually being okay are two _very_ different things."

He can picture Kate in that moment, the way she had huddled against the sidewalk after her shooting, the way her eyes had scoped each building, frantically looking for a sniper's glint. He'll do anything to protect his little girl from that fear, so he forces himself to focus on his speech.

"It may feel like you are making steady progress, right now, but something will happen eventually. And suddenly it will all come crashing down around you and I want you to have some outside support, if or when you may need it."

Having watched Kate in Burke's office, he can see how the doctor has helped; his questions, the kind but firm probing; it has made a difference in her ability to cope with this latest trauma. That, if this had occurred over a year ago she would have run. Hell, she did run a year ago. For months.

His daughter takes his moment of contemplation to sit next to him again, fingers continuing to do their dance on her lap, as she quietly speaks what's on her mind.

"I'm not Beckett, Dad."

His head twists sharply, observes the way she holds her head high, shoulder straight, as if daring him to rebuff her statement, but he smiles instead, lifts a hand to brush her long red hair away.

"You're you, Alexis, and I want you to stay that way."

He cups the back of her head and pulls her to his shoulder, his arm moving to encase her in a slanted hug.

Feeling her nod against his chest in agreement, he lets out a pent up breath, welcomes the knowledge that while it will still take time they are on their way forward. They will be stronger as a family after having survived and come out the other side of this nightmare.

* * *

Kate lifts her face so that the warm spray of water can glide once more across her skin, welcomes the sensation as it cleans away the last bit of grit that had clung to her. A normal session with Burke would leave her heavy– _dirty_– as the topic of the day would bear down on her; today's experience, while healing in its own way, has left her drained– exhausted.

Hearing a movement outside of the shower, her head drops forward and she sees Castle standing awkwardly next to the sink, looking anywhere but at her naked form and she fights to keep the panic at bay.

"Are you nearly finished?" His words are spoken to the ground, as he scuffs one foot against the other, and it's the sight of his exposed toes sticking out of his dress pants that strangely holds her emotions at bay. It's the little glimpses of him that she sees now– bare feet– that she had never seen before they got together, and it reminders her just how far they have come.

"I just got in, my Dad called. Wanted to make sure we were doing okay. But I can be quick or…" She raises a hand in summons, but shrugs a shoulder as nonchalantly as possible, lest his rejection shatter her completely.

"That's okay?" His eyes widen, bright with anticipation and without waiting for an answer, he's already in the process of shedding his clothes.

She forgets sometimes how often he waits for her to take the lead. _Waits for her. _And she wishes she could change that sometimes; write a new way for them.

"You know, you don't need an invitation. You can ask." She swallows thickly as the statement escapes, just as he enters the enclosed space, and he eyes her carefully, as if deliberating on his reply.

Running her fingers across his abdomen, his skin shivers under her touch and effortlessly his body slides until he's closed the gap between them. Bringing his head down, he uses her hair to cover his next declaration, mumbles, as if hiding the words away.

"I want to be able to start asking you for things. Moving forward things. But…" His large hands drift across her sides, move steadily until they join at the small of her back and he buries his face further into her wet hair.

She waits but no more words come and she has a moment of déjà vu, it's like they are back in Burke's office again, and it's her turn to step up in their relationship.

"Are you worried that I'll run?" She whispers the question into the smoothness of his shoulder, brushes her lips over the hard muscle, attempts to soften her query.

His chest expands against her own as he inhales sharply, and dropping his mouth to the angle on her neck, he quietly explains.

"Sometimes. Sometimes I worry that it's too overwhelming for you. It's too much, too soon. Sometimes it's because I don't think I'm enough."

She transfers her hands as she hears his confession, brings her fingers to cup his cheeks, uses all her strength to force his head so that they can make eye contact. She wants to ensure that all the subtext is stripped, that he not just hears but _comprehends_ her next words.

"I can't promise that you will always get the answer you want, right away. But I can promise you, I'm willing to work and negotiate our way through this, Castle. I'm in this."

A smile breaks across his face, lightening his features as he understands her, and she matches it with one of her own. Bringing her mouth forward so that it's able to slide across his lips, she pushes them apart to gain access to the heat inside.

Raising a leg, she hooks it behind his, attempts to gain more leverage for their lower halves, yet his fingers grip her thigh, pushes it back down to the tiled floor.

Confusion floods her mind and she pulls back, startled from the arousal that had been happily encasing her body, and she's thankful when he explains.

"We have to go without for two weeks. Didn't the doctor tell you?"

Thankful is no longer the right word– _two weeks_– and her puzzlement comes out in an odd, "Huh!"

"I've been reading. About it… all–" He carefully dodges around the word– miscarriage– and she doesn't know if it's something that should be forced out, or whether with time it will be spoken more easily. "And even after two weeks, I have to wear protection for another six. Just to give your body the best chance of healing. Without it happening again."

Tears spring forth; swell within her eyes at the thought that he has been searching the internet for information, spending his time learning all he can about what she went through in his absence. If she didn't love him before, she well and truly does now.

Maybe it's time she brings voice to the words that she has held within for so long.

Squeezing her fingers just a little tighter against his cheekbones, she goes to open her mouth, declare what's in her heart, but his need to fill the silent space takes ahold.

"I also read that ten to twenty percent of all pregnancies don't make it, and they talk about how it's no-one's fault, that it just happens." He brings his own hands up as he shares his research, frames her face with his fingers as he gently caresses the skin, damp from the spray and from her tears.

She watches as his own pain overflows. Her heart shuttering as he confesses. "But, Kate, I still feel so guilty."

She drags his head toward hers, bumping their foreheads together, as she threads her fingers through his silky strands, creating a fist at the back of his skull. Breathes him in and returns the truth back to him.

"I do too, Rick."

He latches onto her lips then, as their honesty lingers between them, and pushing her small frame into his, she hopes to heal them both, move forward from all that they have been through. She feels her first sense of confidence; with time they will come out of this with a happier, stronger story of them.

* * *

Sliding across the mattress Kate's arms maneuver around Castle's, her hands holding his shirt tight, as she snuggles in closer. He slips his thigh between hers, skin sliding over skin, as he finds a comfortable position for their bodies to intertwine. Lips make contact, material is pushed aside, and his firm, solid fingers find themselves brushing the exposed area of her lower abdomen. He caresses the spot that may one day be filled with them, with all the possibilities of life, and whispered words break the quiet, are spoken together as one.

"I love you."

* * *

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Epilogue will be up over the weekend

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And in the meantime I have started a new multi-chapter that will start in a day or so!

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Thank you to every person that reviewed- _Going over 100 brought tears to my eyes!_

And to those that made it a favourite, and added this story to your alerts.

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Thank you to Kimmiesjoy for sharing your thoughts

and

Thank you to honeyandvodka and your ability to take my disjointed ramblings and make the into the story before you xoxo

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Your comments are valued!


	9. Chapter 9

Epilogue

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October is Infant/Pregnancy Loss and SIDS Awareness month! Let's take some time to remember the babies who were born asleep, or whom we carried but never met, or those we have held but could not take home, or the ones who made it home, but didn't stay.

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* * *

Kate's eyes travel across the white board; she observes the information, looks for any missing clues, but everything appears up to date, and those around her seem to be making slow but steady progress.

Hearing the elevator signal its opening to her left, her head turns out of habit, the responsibility of ensuring the bullpen is secure is a constant weight upon her shoulders, but as she sees Castle struggling inside, she realizes that she's running late.

"Shi–_sorry_. I was supposed to be down ten minutes ago." Her words are yelled over her shoulder as she moves away from the elevator's open doors, and while she quickly retrieves her belongings so they can get going, he uses his body as a buffer to keep them ajar.

It's moments like this, when she gets caught up in work, that she misses his presence the most. And while she is forever grateful to Gates for what she did back then. For the fact that when she had first 'discovered' their personal relationship, she was willing to look the other way as long as they kept themselves professional in the precinct. Plausible deniability had disappeared long ago, as had their working partnership, at least in the everyday sense.

"Hurray, Beckett, I can only keep them blinded for so long." She watches as he fights to keep both hands down, a puff of laughter escaping with his words, the way even now, after all these years, she is still Beckett within these four walls.

"Hey, you two, stand still for your Dad. You know the rules, no looking when I haven't had the chance to turn the boards around." She finally reaches them, as his grip across their eyes begins to loosen, and using her body she manages to shove them all back into the elevator, the door closing now that Rick's solid frame is no longer blocking its way.

Taking advantage of their little eyes still being partially shielded, she shifts her body forward, her arms encasing her children as her mouth finds Rick's. It may only be for a fleeting second but these days, she'll take what she can get.

"Mommmm. Are you making kiss-y faces with dad?" Her son's words are laced with disgust in the unique way a small child can at the thought of his parents affections, and she transfers her weight creating a more appropriate gap, at least in her little guy's eyes.

"I love your father, and am thus allowed to express my love accordingly." She reaches for her son then, cups his round cheeks within her fingers, bends so she can lather his face with sloppy kisses, and disgruntled giggles fill the space. Turning toward her daughter, she repeats the process; she at least happily returns the motions, and Kate is forced to stand, so she can use the back of her sleeve to wipe the saliva away from her face.

"Thanks, baby girl, you got me good." The laughter within her voice continues as Rick moves an arm, snakes it smoothly across her hip and the heat from his hand settles comfortably at the small of her back.

"My turn again."

He barely gets the sentence out, before both kids are groaning their displeasure and he has to settle for a peck against his cheek as she whispers the word, "Later," against his skin.

Yet, as the doors open to the lobby and they walk forward as one, she realizes that later may not happen either.

"Have you spoken to everyone? Have they all started making their way up to the Hamptons?" As she speaks, she mentally starts counting off people in her head. Their annual tradition of congregating at the beach house for the Memorial Day weekend is always a spectacular opportunity to reconnect with everyone, but it generally leaves her very little time to _reconnect _with the man by her side.

Although they have been creative in the past.

"Yes, everyone's confirmed. I've got the town car taking our parents up. Alexis and _company _should be there already." His disdainful tone when he mentions Alexis' boyfriend earns him a slap against his bicep, but he continues regardless. "I could barely hear Ryan over the screaming in the background at his place, but I'm assuming that he was trying to get them into the car. Espo sent a text; Lanie spoke to you this morning and the rest confirmed yesterday."

He smiles brightly, their family role call giving them both a sense of happiness, and she's grateful for all that she has in her world.

Pausing at the door she holds a hand out expectantly toward her daughter and waits for the refusal, as her son easily latches on to his father's hand. Apparently, he was watching his dinosaur movie again this morning and he's questioning its real life issues. She can't help but marvel at the inquisitive mind he seems to have inherited from Rick.

"Dad, if dinosaurs were alive and killed someone, would it be murder? Because I don't see how mom could get her handcuffs on him. They have real little arms. Did you know that?" His various questions get asked on a daily basis, but Castle always takes the time to answer them seriously, gives them weight like it's important, and she loves him so much more every time.

"Well, because it's an animal, then no. It's no different than if a lion ate someone, you can't arrest him." He says his words with such patience, and as she looks down at her daughter, whose arms are crossed in defiance against her chest, she tries to syphon some of it off.

"You know the rules, holding hands on the sidewalk." Her eyes lock with her daughter's, maintaining contact as they began their silent battle of determination, and Kate sends up a silent apology to her parents. According to her father, she gave birth to herself, and it's a daily clash of wills.

Moving at lightning speed, she wiggles her fingers into her daughter's side, her actions breaking their standoff, her little arms loosening, and Kate encloses one quickly within her hand.

Finally heading out the front door, they hit the foot traffic and do their best to weave as a group, but as her hand is tugged down, little feet tripping, Kate turns back, and she collides with someone.

"Sorry." She automatically apologizes as she turns, and her statement is met with a throaty chuckle. Apparently the person she crashed into is more amused than offended.

"Well. Well. Kate Beckett, how are you doing?"

She looks at the man before her, his features unchanged. Time appears to have left him alone and she breaks out into laughter.

"Doctor Burke. Fancy bumping into you." It's been years since she has had an appointment, and she stands tall, proud of how far she has come, the way her life has moved forward in the time since they last met.

"You look like you are doing well, Kate. I'm happy for you." His words are sincere, eyes bright with joy over what he observes before him and she can't help but turn and look–sees what he sees, as she remembers the moment her whole life changed.

* * *

She pulls her legs up, her rear balancing precariously on the closed toilet seat, knees giving her chin a place to rest as the news washes over her again. For such a simple device, it's sure managed to rock her world on its axis, and she sits stunned.

Oblivious to it all Castle enters the bathroom, begins fiddling around at the sink, unaware of her presence in the room, at least until he spots her in the mirror and letting out an unmanly shriek, he pivots on the spot. Lifting a hand to his heart as if preventing it from leaping out of his body, he chastises her.

"Damn it, Beckett. I'm not old enough to have a heart attack!"

Forgetting for a moment the reason she's here, Kate lifts an eyebrow in question, opens her mouth to rebuff his claim, but he moves forward quickly, squatting down in front of her.

"Hey, what's wrong?" His words are laced with such tenderness, that it takes all she has not to burst into tears, even though for the life of her she can't work out whether they would be happy ones or not, and she shoves the white plastic strip into his hand.

Looking down he stares at it cautiously, lips parting so he can run a tongue along their length, and his eyes rise to find hers.

"Am I holding your pee?"

His question earns him a poke against his chest and she takes a deep breath for the first time, allows the oxygen to flood her lungs as he becomes serious.

"We talked about this, Kate. It's a good thing, remember."

A slight nod is all she can do in reply and he grabs ahold of each ankle, pulling her feet down to the tiled floor, and it causes her to sit up straighter. Dropping the life-changing test onto the floor, he uses one hand to lift her shirt while the other caresses the flat planes of her stomach, traces circles above their unborn child.

"What if I have another miscarriage?" Her worries are barely whispered and he brings his mouth forward so that it can capture her lips, his hand continuing its motion.

"Then we'll deal with it together, Kate."

Moving her hands so that she can grasp his shoulders, she lingers before letting her fingers drift around, until they connect behind his head. Pushing her body into his, he catches her at the last second, and their bodies collide together as one, onto the floor.

* * *

Kate watches her family, as she stands next to Burke; the way amusement dances across Rick's features, his children–all his children–keeping him young at heart. He, _they, _are so proud of Alexis, how successful, how happy she is in her life. Next to Castle her son continues to chat away, oblivious to the adults around him as he retells a story that has obviously been brewing in his over-active imagination. And her daughter; soft brown curls cascading down her back as she jumps up and down on the spot, impatient at this delay, roaring, ready to go onto their next adventure.

Turning to face Burke, she reaffirms, "Good doesn't even come close to how I am. This–" Her free hand waves, encompassing them all. "This is …" Her explanation trails off and she realizes there are no words to describe her life. It's happy, and joyous. Hard and exhausting. So full and complete, yet pulls her in a hundred different directions. Yet as they all stand before her, she comprehends; that's what family is, and while it was something she had once never really imagined in her future, she's so thankful for hers.

* * *

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The End

Thank you for coming on this incredible and personal story with me, xoxo

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Thank you to every person that reviewed- _Going over 100 brought tears to my eyes! Crushing 150 left me sobbing (they mean a lot!)_

And to those that made it a favourite, and added this story to your alerts.

.

Thank you to Kimmiesjoy for sharing your thoughts

and

Thank you to honeyandvodka and your ability to take my disjointed ramblings and make the into the story before you xoxo

.

Your comments-reviews are valued!


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